Cracked Glass
by Queen-of-Ice101
Summary: When Draco looked in the mirror of cracked glass he never saw the proud Malfoy he should have been staring back at him, a death eater with the strength to fulfill his duties. He saw a broken boy, and he saw a coward.


Hello all!

So I have returned with my second Harry Potter fanfic, and clearly Halloween has corrupted me because this is not a nice story. I had this idea come to me out of the blue while I was eating, I thought about it for about fifteen seconds and was like "no way in hell" and proceeded to finish my dinner with the intent of continuing my other fanfic I was working on.

I could not write to save my life because this $?&# % idea was haunting me and terrorizing me till I gave in and wrote the thing sooooo here is my halloween horror-ish submission for Harry Potter:D

This fic was born of me wondering what would have happened if Draco had just been that much more desperate with everything going on in Half Blood Prince and finally reached rock bottom so to speak. This is kind of like an alternate happening to the bathroom fight with Harry, maybe Harry never saw him to chase after him or got caught up by a professor or something so he isn't there to affect the outcome of this scene.

Enjoy...

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 **Cracked Glass**

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The cracked glass of the mirror before him was mesmerizing, Draco watching as the shattered pieces within the cracks fractured his reflection into hundreds of glittering versions. He could see the tears sliding down his cheeks, glistening trails that never would have been had he been truly worthy of the Malfoy name.

He wanted to look away, to ignore the vision of the broken boy staring back. Yet he refused, it was his own punishment to see what a disgrace he had become. He would never admit it aloud, and he refused to even consider it on most days. But he was alone now, hiding away in the bathroom bracing over the porcelain sink with nothing but his own worst thoughts playing on repeat, and with nothing else to distract him he found one single realization standing in the forefront.

Draco Malfoy was a coward.

Sobs clawed up his throat, choking him as he desperately tried to force them down.

"You're pathetic." He spat at his reflection, tears blurring his vision before overflowing.

He was a death eater, taking his place to fill the hole his father had left after being arrested and placed in Azkaban. He was protecting his family, he had been chosen personally by the Dark Lord!

Yet here he stood, everything in him screaming out to be freed from this mission. He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to have this blood on his hands.

A muffled scream escaped from between gritted teeth, his whole body shuddering as heart broken cries escaped him to echo off the walls. This was his own personal hell. An overwhelming irony that he had finally been chosen first but for the one task that followed him into his nightmares.

He was about to become a killer.

"I can't _do_ this!"

The hoarse shout escaped him and his knees gave out from under him, Draco collapsing to the wet tile floor with a thump.

He couldn't do this, he was so weak!

Draco sucked in a rasping breath, his whole body trembled as if acting as a physical manifestation of everything going on in his mind.

He was weak, and if he failed when he finally came face to face with professor Dumbledore his whole family would pay the price. Visions of his mother screaming under the curses the Dark Lord would lay played across his mind, closing his eyes doing nothing to erase the images.

The only way his mother would escape that fate because of his failure was if he died, if he never truly failed.

"I-"

The realization hit him like a blast of magic, his eyes snapping wide open and his whole body stiffening at the thought.

"I could..." He shook his head slowly, almost unbelieving of the simplicity of the solution.

Fear welled in him at the idea of what he could do, to escape the mission and the black future ahead of him. To protect his mother, ensure that what he did wouldn't see her suffering. Would he have the strength to do it though?

It was so easy to envision one of the Dark Lord's unfortunate victims, writhing on the round with those eery wails filling the air as the Dark Lord laughed. A single blink and his mind had replaced the unknown person with his mother, sudden nausea making him lurch for the closest stall where he dry heaved.

That image burned relentlessly behind his eyes and Draco staggered into the wall, breath rattling in his chest.

Seeing that potential future if he failed was all it took for Draco, there was no other way to protect her. He had to do this.

Carefully he straightened, reaching into his vest and retrieving his wand with a trembling hand. Slowly he walked, hand trailing along the stall doors as he waked towards the open shower area. Every few moments he turned and aimed his wand, muttered curses breaking apart the washroom and blowing holes in the stall walls.

He had to make it look like an accident, like a fight gone wrong.

He had enough enemies he had made over the years, enough people that could have hated him enough to fly into enough of a rage to cross that final line.

To kill him.

Finally Draco reached the middle of the broken showers, water pooled on the floor and every step echoed with a sploosh through the empty tiled bathroom. His eyes were dull and his movements slow, as if his decision had drained all the emotion out of him and left him strangely empty. A faint tremulous smile flickered across his lips as he thought about his mother being saved and protected until his father was freed and could return to his mother. She would grieve, he knew. But it was worth it.

He just hoped she knew how much he loved her, and that she never found out that the hands Draco had died at were in fact his own.

His hand trembled as he took one last deep breath before raising his wand and pressing the tip to his own chest. His grey eyes fluttered shut for the final time and he steeled himself before breathing two single words.

"Avada Kedavra."


End file.
